


heat

by brandywine421



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: "Simmer on low heat."Frank never mentioned that Matt talked in his sleep, didn't seem relevant when sleep was so rare for the guy, let alone sleep with another person.  Besides, he didn't need a spotter's nest across the street, and the other street, to know Matt wasn't sleeping around.Sleep was good for both of them, even if they needed to work through their frustrations before they got there.  They were figuring each other out.  Not in the streets, they knew way too much about each other out there - but in here, out of armor and out of breath was a whole new ball game.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson/Marci Stahl
Comments: 27
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spot-checked and pep-talked by Longdaysjourney - thank you so much for giving me the courage to post!
> 
> **Still trying to come to terms with my posting anxiety and exponential self-doubt. But I had fun writing these pieces and really need fanfic to be my happy place again so let's give this a shot.**
> 
> *dips single toe into puddle*
> 
> Explorations on the prompt "Heat", chapters 1 & 2 are fluffy and hopefully soft and chap 3 is smut.

* * *

_"Simmer on low heat."_

Frank never mentioned that Matt talked in his sleep, didn't seem relevant when sleep was so rare for the guy, let alone sleep with another person. Besides, he didn't need a spotter's nest across the street, and the other street, to know Matt wasn't sleeping around.

Sleep was good for both of them, even if they needed to work through their frustrations before they got there. They were figuring each other out. Not in the streets, they knew way too much about each other out there - but in here, out of armor and out of breath was a whole new ball game.

"Stir until smooth, low heat, simmer," Matt murmurs, eyes moving under the curtain of lashes as he dreamed. He wondered, vacantly as he watched, how that worked and if Matt could 'see' in his dreamscapes.

"Needs salt," Matt sighed, shifting and twitching his fingers to shake an invisible shaker. He smacked his lips and Frank bit back a smile when he snapped awake. "Fuck."

He splayed his head across Matt's forehead to taunt the raised eyebrows of panic. "Bad dream?"

"I hate summer," Matt replied, going lax under Frank's soft thrumming across his hairline with his thumb.

"Yeah?" Frank kept the air conditioner turned wide open when Red came by, for strategic reasons.

"Too much salt," he replied with a pronounced 'pout' of his lips. "Sweat, in moderation, is manageable, even - preferable on occasion - but summer - it's everywhere and makes me want to puke pretzels."

That was a thought.

"Did I wake you up? I should - "

"No, I took out the garbage and you were out. Might as well stay, if you want. I mean, you can."

"Doesn't have to be a conversation. It's late and we're both up. Usually means one of us should leave," Matt said.

"When is sweat 'preferable' to you?" Frank asked, leaning back on his pillow and leaving a nice space for Matt to fill, if he was feeling lazy and coy.

Matt curled into the cool space as planned sliding a leg underneath his knee. "There's a spice to it, it's hard to explain. Fear has a bitter, spiky taste - grief, a cloying thick paste that hangs in the back of the throat. Victory's like a shot of tequila and a hit of sharp lime - lust, well, that varies - but summer's like a hot curry that burns out my senses."

"You're skipping all the good parts, don't care about stew - want to hear about that lust, see if I need to get a spice rack."

Red huffed a low laugh against his ribcage, flaying his fingertips over his thigh. "Simmering, on low heat," he said. "Too angry - it's acrid like hot metal, copper - too cold, it's sidewalk salt at a funeral - formaldehyde - but - simmering, low heat - "

"What?" Frank asked, Matt's lips at his throat now.

"I like to cook, Frank," Matt hummed against his chin.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_"Dude, you don't - "_

_"Look so good, but - "_

"Don't - "

_"Right - Matt? Buddy?"_

He realized he wasn't safe at home in his bed or comfortable in his secret - no, he didn't have a secret 'lover' because - just no - wait - he could make out the braille against his cheek that could only mean - 

"I fell asleep at my desk. No," he said, Foggy's cool fingers against his cheek. "Why are you freezing?"

"I'm not, man, you're burning up - and not in a good way, you must have what Marci had - damn, did you - "

"You made him go on that wine sampling thing last week as part of his best man duties of impressing the fam," Karen said.

"Hi, Karen, how was Atlantic City?"

"Harrowing - and three days ago so don't pretend like you're not sick. How long have you been here?"

Foggy hissed. "Did you go home?"

"Sure," Matt replied. "Wait."

"It's Thursday so Jessica's on - I'll go by the drugstore and meet her there," Foggy said.

"I can - " Matt started.

"You can, continue to sit quietly until we decide to let you try," Karen cut him off, pressing a cold cold cold metal can against his cheek. "Drink. Ginger fluid."

"Yuck."

"Fail, Karen, it's ginger sugar bubbles, your favorite," Foggy said.

That sounded preferable.

* * *

He didn't remember how he got home, but he remembered the slippery silk against his bare skin, then the cold linoleum against his bruised knees and the thick bile bursting through his guts to get out.

Jessica held his hair, threatened to make him pee on a stick if he didn't let her put a stick in his ear and bickered with Frank in a soothing staccato of banter when Karen and Foggy's smoldering concern drifted from the space.

He'd never been able to pray away a fever, or meditate it into submission so he accepted Jessica's approved dose of three swigs of whiskey and accepted Frank's blanket and the socks with the distracting holes in both little toes and accepted his fate - the fever would break before he would.

He didn't have a sore throat, but he went hoarse from the first bout of screaming and he didn't have a headache, but his ears were pulsing with pressure and he didn't have a runny nose but it dripped steadily with thick blood after he smashed his face into the counter tripping over those fucking holes in the socks - 

Jessica was wearing one of his shirts and it was wet and clinging but she made sure he didn't fall off the sill of the tub while Frank dried him off and gave him fresh clothes - unholy socks - and a mimosa - no, orange juice with extra pulp and no straw - 

He was safe at home with his secret - dammit, he was not going to think of him as a secret lover, no matter the fever.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

"I was in the Marines, Red, it's not my first time on that ride," Frank said when Matt confessed his sin, trussed up as martyr to Frank's blaspheming mouth.

He wasn't the biggest fan of being tied up, but the gift of control was an offering he was willing to give to Frank - and he accepted it with grace - the grace of a jackhammer, but - it was fun - more than he expected.

"Foggy?" Frank asked.

"Oh, sometimes," Matt admitted, refocusing on the conversation they were having even if he was still naked on display with his hands bound to Frank's headboard. "College, you know?"

"Porn probably wouldn't do much for you - voyeurism - "

"I can't help my hearing, I would be hard all the time if that was all it was, people are always fucking, Frank," Matt laughed. Frank darted his tongue across Matt's nipple and he bit back his sound.

"You like doing it in front of him, though, is that it? You can't see, but you like to be seen? 'Cause I'd show you off, if you wanted."

"God, don't even joke about it," Matt whispered, but his cock gave him away. "Why - "

And Frank's heart did something - oh - this was planned - "Was this strategic?" 

"Maybe - Foggy's girl gave me a call, told me to bring it up - "

"Marci thinks I'm a cockslut," Matt said and Frank's heart did something - oh - that wasn't planned.

"Oh yeah?"

"She's very vocal about it - gives lots of positive reinforcement - " Matt shivered when Frank's fingers curled around his balls.

"Bachelor party's a go, then?"

* * *

"Thanks for this," Marci said, trailing her fingers over Matt's wrist when she passed him another glass of wine. "Foggy won't say it, but he's really excited about it, too - "

Matt sensed Frank's curiosity before she turned her attention to him. "When I dated Foggy in college, I was jealous as hell until they let me in on their little codependency kink - Matt's a houseplant, he needs regular care and attention."

"Houseplant?" Foggy asked from the other room - doing lawn maintenance from the sound of it.

"Well, more like a sponge - and sharing is caring, it brought us closer then and now that all our secrets are out in the open, we can renew the bond going forward."

"That's wholly inappropriate for what's about to go down," Matt frowned.

Frank hummed. "Or who's about to go down."

"That's what she said - he said - never mind, are we doing this?" Foggy asked, walking out.

Matt wasn't used to the sound of the new Foggy, he liked the love handles but Marci's hands sounded different against his skin. She had given up the tanning bed years ago and was healthy and flush.

"How does this start?" Frank asked, sliding his arm around his waist and three fingers into the rim of his jeans.

* * *

  
It had been different in college, not that he would ever have this discussion with Matt or Marci - but it had been different for all of them in college.

Matt, desperate for affection but unwilling to accept more than friendship and Marci, deperate for friendship but unwilling to accept affection - and Foggy - just fucking desperate.

He thought he was a pervert when he pictured Matt touching himself under the sheets and he knew he was when he told Matt about it and the guy actually agreed to matching jerk-off sessions.

But Marci - asking openly to fuck in his room, knowing Matt would be in the bed only a few feet away - and then Matt masturbating openly on top of the sheets while Marci sucked him off - it had been a messy semester of kinky unspoken perversion - until it wasn't.

Marci remembered it differently, and Matt - who knows what he heard from strangers - remembered it even more differently. It had been a time of clarity and inclusiveness for Marci, and a gift of understanding for Matt.

Foggy would put on a movie with lots of talking and little plot and Marci would curl against him on the small bed while Matt cuddled with his date for the evening.

"Think your roommate's falling asleep," Marci would say and Matt would hum and move his hand to his date's zipper and his date would smile.

"Nah. Wake up, Matt. What do you want to do?" Foggy would ask.

And if the plan was on - if the date was prepped - Matt would answer - "What do you want me to do?"

"Maybe you should take your shirt off," Foggy would say, or, "Maybe you should take your dick out," or Foggy would hesitate and Marci would kiss him for luck.

It had been different in college because they had been different in college.

Matt's skin wasn't painted with scars and fingermarks from his secret lover - and his date didn't have a name, wasn't a friend named Frank who marked Matt with lovebites and finger bruises - and Marci wasn't familiar and mapped inch by inch with his tongue and wearing his ring - taking his name.

Marci moved his fingers to her skirt, to her lace, to her slick heat - inside - and Matt spread his lips and his legs and his hands - open - and Frank pushed his hips and his cock and his breath - deeper - 

"Different - isn't it?" Matt asked, breaking the spell with a soft gasp as Frank caught his bobbing cock in his fingertips for a tug. "Don't want to give instructions anymore, Fogs?"

"You seem to be doing okay on your own," he replied, sliding another finger inside his soon to be wife.

"Doesn't take orders from me, I was curious to see if he listened better to you two," Frank smiled, and Foggy wondered vaguely if Matt could feel it.

* * *

"Your boyfriend's got a nice cock, maybe you should suck on it," Foggy said over breakfast.

Frank shrugged and pushed his chair back, still in boxers like the rest of them - even Marci. 

"Choke on it, you're a cockslut, gagging for it," Marci offered, reaching over for Foggy's fully awake cock.

"Stand up, better angle," Matt said, daintily placing a hand towel down for his knees. "Balls on my chin, you know how I like it," he added.

Frank did - Red was all about the rhythm, the pulse, rain on a rooftop, skin slapping against skin.

"How does he like it, Frank?" Foggy asked as Marci moved to his lap to mount him without taking her eyes off the show.

Frank gave into the moment and fucked Red's mouth - his throat - his wet hot - he pulled back at the muffled gag, a string of spit trailing. "Easy," he whispered.

"Hard," Matt panted, chasing his cock with his tongue before taking his length again.

"Easy, huh?" Marci laughed, rolling her hips and making Foggy groan.

"Woke up with his mouth on my dick, wanted to taste me before he brushed his teeth," Frank said, renewing the rhythm and appreciating that Marci and Foggy matched his thrusts.

"What else?" Foggy asked, breathless and eager.

"Fucked him slow in the shower, massaging his balls until he let me eat his ass," he remembered aloud.

"Sounds like him, and then?"

He pulled out and Matt caught his breath, leaning his cheek against Frank's thigh so his cock was against his lips.

"You answer," Frank ordered.

Matt licked his balls and used both hands to spread his ass. "Asked him to lube me up so he can fuck me on all fours when get home."

Frank hummed, slapping his dick against his cheek softly. "Is that all?"

"I don't need permission to suck you off in the truck," Matt said.

"I knew it," Marci laughed.

"Can I finish before I pack my toothbrush?" Matt asked and Frank filled his mouth again, question and answer time deferred for a rhythm break.

Matt came first, a muted gag and an enthusiastic shudder of release across Frank's bare feet - and Foggy seemed to follow a few moments later, his rhythm off but not by much when Marci took her cue - but Frank did his best to make Matt work for it, closing his eyes and waiting for those rough, expert fingers to join in until he completed the ring of bonding.

Bonding was one thing, bachelor parties were another - and orgies were right out - but everyone went home as friends and partners and secret lovers without a hint of regret (but maybe with a hint of anniversary plans.)

Matt did blow him in the parking lot of his apartment, and Frank gave him a fresh toothbrush so he didn't have to unpack but they fucked face to face because they could be unpredictable if they felt like it.

* * *


End file.
